Gaslight Evangelion
by Mizagium
Summary: The year is 1882, and humanity has already weathered one alien invasion. Second Impact, the invader's final attack, has left the world scarred but intact. But that was only the beginning, a foretaste of the struggle to follow; the Angels have arrived. AU.
1. The Eve of the War

Gaslight Evangelion: Prologue

* * *

No one would have believed in the middle years of the nineteenth century that this world was being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than man's and yet as mortal as his own; that as men busied themselves about their various concerns they were scrutinised and studied, perhaps almost as narrowly as a man with a microscope might scrutinise the transient creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water. With infinite complacency men went to and fro over this globe about their little affairs, serene in their assurance of their empire over matter. It is possible that the infusoria under the microscope do the same. No one gave a thought to the older worlds of space as sources of human danger, or thought of them only to dismiss the idea of life upon them as impossible or improbable. It is curious to recall some of the mental habits of those departed days. At most terrestrial men fancied there might be other men upon Mars, perhaps inferior to themselves and ready to welcome a missionary enterprise. Yet across the gulf of space, minds that are to our minds as ours are to those of the beasts that perish, intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic, regarded this earth with envious eyes, and slowly and surely drew their plans against us. And late in the nineteenth century came the great disillusionment.

The planet Mars, revolves about the sun at a mean distance of 140,000,000 miles, and the light and heat it receives from the sun is barely half of that received by this world. It must be, if the nebular hypothesis has any truth, older than our world; and long before this earth ceased to be molten, life upon its surface must have begun its course. The fact that it is scarcely one seventh of the volume of the earth must have accelerated its cooling to the temperature at which life could begin. It has air and water and all that is necessary for the support of animated existence.

Yet so vain is man, and so blinded by his vanity, that no writer, up to the very end of the nineteenth century, expressed any idea that intelligent life might have developed there far, or indeed at all, beyond its earthly level. Nor was it generally understood that since Mars is older than our earth, with scarcely a quarter of the superficial area and remoter from the sun, it necessarily follows that it is not only more distant from time's beginning but nearer its end.

During the opposition of 1873 a great light was witnessed spouting from the neighboring planet, first at the Lick Observatory, then by Perrotin of Nice, and then by other observers. The light lingered for days, and in one article in _Nature_, dated August 2, it was described as having the appearance of a great tree of light. For days the peculiar light remained, until it finally vanished just as suddenly as it had erupted.

In the subsequent six years, the planet was noted to develop a strange red hue, which gradually grew to cover the entirety of the heavenly mass. Mars became a red planet with a red ring. Astronomers were baffled at the time and proposed numerous theories, each more wild then the last. Oh, if only they knew.

As Mars approached opposition, Lavelle of Java set the wires of the astronomical exchange palpitating with the amazing intelligence of a huge outbreak of incandescent gas upon the planet. It had occurred towards midnight of the twelfth; and the spectroscope, to which he had at once resorted, indicated a mass of flaming gas, chiefly hydrogen, moving with an enormous velocity towards this earth. This jet of fire had become invisible about a quarter past twelve. He compared it to a colossal puff of flame suddenly and violently squirted out of the planet, "as flaming gases rushed out of a gun." A singularly appropriate phrase it proved. Yet the next day there was nothing of this in the papers except a little note in the _Daily Telegraph_, and the world went in ignorance of one of the gravest dangers that ever threatened the human race.

That night, too, there was another jetting out of gas from the distant planet. A reddish flash at the edge, the slightest projection of the outline just as the chronometer struck midnight. The next night another invisible missile started on its way to the earth from Mars, just a second or so under twenty-four hours after the first one.

"The chances against anything manlike on Mars are a million to one," they said.

Hundreds of observers saw the flame that night and the night after about midnight, and again the night after; and so for ten nights, a flame each night. Why the shots ceased after the tenth no one on earth has attempted to explain. It may be the gases of the firing caused the Martians inconvenience. Dense clouds of smoke or dust, visible through a powerful telescope on earth as little grey, fluctuating patches, spread through the clearness of the planet's atmosphere and obscured its more familiar features.

Even the daily papers woke up to the disturbances at last, and popular notes appeared here, there, and everywhere concerning the volcanoes upon Mars. The seriocomic periodical _Punch_, made a happy use of it in the political cartoon. And, all unsuspected, those missiles the Martians had fired at us drew earthward, rushing now at a pace of many miles a second through the empty gulf of space, hour by hour and day by day, nearer and nearer. It seems now almost incredibly wonderful that, with that swift fate hanging over us, men could go about their petty concerns as they did. People in these latter times scarcely realize the abundance and enterprise of our mid-nineteenth-century papers.

Then came the night of the first falling star. Britain and Germany, locked in a bloody war of dominance over Europe, briefly put down their weapons to examine this new threat from beyond the stars. They came in droves to Earth, searching desperately for a new home, after theirs was drowned in a sea of red. For now, the nations of the world united to fight for humanity's right to exist on their own home planet.

And then came Second Impact, an event that changed the shape of the Earth, swallowing whole countries in natural disasters. For a time, it seemed the world was on the bring of Armageddon, plunging into the end of humanity. This Second Impact was so named for it was said that the invading Martians launched a meteor into the South Pole as a terror tactic to scare the humans into surrender, with more devastating effects than were imagined.

However, humanity has always been a tenacious species, unwilling to go quietly into the night, unwilling to surrender their lives so easily. The loss of Antarctica and others merely hardened their resolve. It was then that humanity, upon the pinnacle of scientific innovation, unleashed its greatest weapon, a weapon of such terrifying power that the extraterrestrial invaders were completely, and utterly defeated.

Now, several years later, it seems the Martians, while surely the most obvious and immediate, were not the only threat humanity faced…


	2. Third Child Third Angel

Third Child; Third Angel

* * *

Shaun Gendo pushed gingerly through the crowd of London-III, muttering polite apologies as he did so, barely noticing those returned. A noon sun blazed down from sky, which made Shaun sweat beneath his layers of clothing. Even in the winter, the acceptable layers of clothing seemed a bit much to Shaun. Did he really need leggings, underwear, pants, a shirt, an overshirt, a coat, and an overcoat? Maybe during a blizzard…

Alas, such was demanded from society, and so he conformed, if only to avoid drawing attention to himself. But here in London-III, he could have been wearing a brightly colored bird costume and he would not have drawn more than a passing glance from its inhabitants, he guessed. Here he was invisible. At least until he bumped into someone else, in which case he became the immediate target fro said individual to vent any pent up anger they had stored.

_They wouldn't say such things if they knew my father was Lord Gendo,_ Shaun thought to himself. But he wasn't one to flaunt his influence around like some of the other children he left behind at his boarding school. Now that he thought about it, he was rather glad to be free of that place and its stuffy atmosphere. Of its strict regimen of study and the harsh, unforgiving teachers who ran it - he thought – like a prison.

As he bumped his way through the slowly retreating crowd, he caught snatches of conversation.

"Whatever could be this time? This is the third time this week we've had to…"

"Probably the damn Krauts, again. It's always the bloody Kaiser…"

"…Could it be the Martians?"

"Ha. Not bloody likely. We smashed them good years ago. I have to give the Krauts credit, at least, for that: they know how to fight."

"Which is why we aren't ever at peace…"

"…Why London-III was constructed in the first place? To be a sandbar of sorts for any attacks to breach themselves on? NERVE's done a fairly excellent job of keeping us safe up until now, right?"

"If you call destroying the city every other week safe…"

Suddenly, Shaun emerged from the rear end of the crowd and found himself completely alone. He glanced around. The streets were deserted. A gentle breeze stirred the wind chimes and Tesla-lines draped between the tall buildings. The street signs informed him that he was at the corner of Flatsburg Road and Fleet Street. In other words, he was lost.

_I should have remembered to bring the map father sent me._ Thinking, he dug into his pockets and pulled out two pieces of paper. One was a note from his father that read, "Shaun. I require your assistance. Please come to London-III. Lord Gendo." The other was a portrait – picture, he had to remind himself, a picture taken with a camera device – of a young woman named Ms. Ato. Scribbled in ink along the margins were the words "Look here" and an arrow drawn to her ankles. Apparently, she was supposed to pick him up.

Shaun raised an eyebrow at the picture and sighed. The likelihood of being picked up now that he was lost was dangerously low. Maybe he was doomed to wander the abandoned streets of London-III forever.

Something on the edge of his vision caused him to turn his head. Some distance away stood a young girl, about his age, with short bleach-blond hair. She fixed an intent stare on him. He was about to ask her for directions when a retreating flock of pigeons distracted him. When he turned back, she had vanished.

_Great, now I'm imagining things._

An explosion from inside the city shook the ground beneath his feet, unbalancing him, and causing him to fall against the hard façade of an apartment complex. Another sounded; this one closer. Dark shapes appeared in the sky above him. _Gyrocopters_, he marveled. Weapons of war derived from the notes of Leonardo Da Vinci to do battle with, first, the Germans, and then the Martians. What were they doing here within the city?

Five of them stopped and hovered a few hundred feet above the ground. Each let loose a barrage of bullets from the two Gatling guns equipped. It did the British proud to be able to use the Germans' own weapon against them. Somehow, Shaun suspected that whatever it was they were fighting – whatever caused an evacuation order – wasn't something cooked up by the Krauts.

His suspicions were confirmed only moments later when a massive black foot imbedded itself in the cobblestone street directly to his left, smashing one of the gyrocopters flat. The four remaining turned to flee, only to be swept aside by an equally large hand. Then the full terror of the monstrosity came into view.

The monster must have been hundreds of feet tall, uniformly blue-black all over its immense bulk. Each shoulder was shielded by a dull gray piece of armor that suspiciously resembled bone. Large spiked protruded back from each elbow; the hands ended into sharp claws. A vague replica of a ribcage protected a blood-red jewel protruding from its chest. The face was bird-like, with hollow eye sockets and only an upper beak.

Shaun was evidently too small to warrant the monster's attention, as it passed on by, each massive footstep breaking up the paved roads and rattling building on the their foundations, often causing windows to shatter or sections of walls to outright collapse. When it was out of sight, Shaun let out a stifled whimper and fell to the ground.

"There's no way that was the Germans," he said to himself. "No way. Nothing humanity possesses comes anywhere close."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that."

Shaun screamed in frightened surprise at the new, female voice that spoke to him. Kneeling next to him was a rather attractive woman dressed in a variation of the traditional redcoat of the British Royal Army. He hair was pulled back and tied so that it resembled a pony's tail, and a crucifix hung from a necklace. Above the right breast was the emblem of a fig leaf covering the word NERVE, with the last "E" mostly obscured from view, so it read NERV.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you," she said soothingly. "Is your name Shaun Gendo? Son of Lord Gendo?"

"Th-that's right." He swallowed and attempted to regain full control of his muscles. "Are you Ms. Ato?"

"That's right. I'm here to take you NERVE headquarters."

She helped him to his feet and he noticed the large, gray-colored horse waiting a few feet away. Noticing his look, Ms. Ato said, "It's an ironhorse, developed by NERVE scientists for use in combat."

"Developed?" Shaun exclaimed. "How can a horse have been developed?"

She tilted her head to one side. "You know about life-threads, right? The strands from which all life is organized?"

"Sure. They teach us that in school. Charles Darwin discovered them almost two hundred years ago."

"Right. Well, we figured out how to manipulate those threads, and" she indicated the ironhorse "create this." She shook her head. "But we don't have time for this. Come on; I need to get you to NERVE."

She mounted the ironhorse in a very unladylike manner and pulled Shaun up behind her. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around her waist – then squeezed them in a death grip as the beast took off at full speed down the road. The wind whipped into his eyes with such force that he had to keep them closed, and so had absolutely no idea where he was headed.

Sometime later, Ms. Ato halted the great horse and dismounted, producing a pair of binoculars from…somewhere. Shaun, legs aching from gripping the horse, gingerly slid off and joined her on the crest of a hill. "What…ah…What are you looking at, Ms. Ato?"

"Looking for the Angel…there!" A squadron of gyrocopters flew overhead; one looked drastically oversized compared to the others Shaun had seen earlier.

"Angel? Is that what - ?"

"Oh, bloody hell! They're going to use a T2 bomb!"

"What - !"

"Get down!" She grabbed him by the front of his coat and pulled him to the ground. The afternoon sky was suddenly ablaze as the explosive impacted the Angel and unleashed its full explosive power. Every building in the immediate vicinity caught fire, and soon London-III was burning.

Ms. Ato and Shaun struggled to their feet and surveyed the damage. "Is it dead?" he asked.

"I don't think so," she answered, but put the binoculars to her face anyway. Just as she said, the Angel emerged unscathed from the blast. "Bloody hell. Nothing should have survived that."

"What _was_ that?"

"A T2 bomb. It was developed by Nikola Tesla. Supposedly it's the strongest we have." She gave him a wink. "Officially, of course."

Unsure of how to answer, he simply nodded.

The ironhorse had been knocked over by the force of the blast and now lay several feet from where Ms. Ato had left it.

"Shouldn't we help it up?" Shaun asked.

"It's a warhorse, Shaun, not a cow; watch." Sure enough the ironhorse got to its feet moments later and shook its gray head in irritation.

Before he knew it, he was riding behind Ms. Ato on the artificial beast, wind stinging his face and hands. When they stopped a second time, a large castle loomed over them. It immediately conjured up images of the Middle Ages described in school textbooks, of knights riding forth and rescuing maidens from dragons. Of King Arthur and Sir Lancelot.

The NERVE insignia was displayed all over the structure, built into the wall and towers with dark stone – onyx, it appeared.

"Is this NERVE headquarters?" Shaun asked in wonderment.

"Of course not," Ms. Ato replied. "It's only the above-ground portion." A pair of armored guards raised the portcullis and she directed the ironhorse to a platform of wood an iron. A third guard snapped the gate in place and stepped back. The platform began to sink into the ground. Shaun immediately began to panic, but upon noticing Ms. Ato's and the ironhorse's lack of reaction, he calmed.

_It must be electric powered_, he thought. _Steam doesn't have the control electricity does, even if it is cheaper. It would fit that NERVE would have access to the latest and greatest technology._

Gas lamps provided a dim yellow light as they passed deeper into the earth. Shaun felt as though the walls were going to cave in and suffocate him, but just when he could no longer stand it, the ground opened up to reveal an underground cavern: the Geological Front, or Geofront.

"Welcome to the real NERVE headquarters," Ms. Ato announced without enthusiasm. "Careful," she warned as Shaun leaved over the rail to look down. "A lot of folk get vertigo their first time."

"Right." But he felt great. Spread out beneath him was a cavern of earth and sea, completely undisturbed by the world above. It occupied a roughly circular area of space with Central Dogma, the _true_ center of NERVE, at the center.

_Nerve center,_ Shaun thought dryly.

Time passed relatively slowly onboard the lift, marked only by the periodic rumbling of the monstrosity – had Ms. Ato called in an Angel? – wreaking havoc on London-III above. _Isn't anyone going to do anything?_ But what could they do? The T2 bomb had barely scratched the thing, and that was supposedly the strongest weapon NERVE had in store. Officially, he amended, remembering Ms. Ato's comment. What did she mean?

After what seemed an eternity of silence, the lift stopped outside the large pyramid structure he had seen from the air and he was led inside. There they boarded another lift, thought without the horse.

Ms. Ato handed him a leaf of papers. "I almost forgot. These are from Lord Gendo; he wants you to read up on them before we get farther in."

Shaun took them, thinking, _These would have been useful during the first lift ride._ He flipped through them, not completely understanding many of the words and phrases used in the notes. The word Angel appeared there, too, with numerous references to Antarctica and the Martians. He furrowed his brow and backtracked to the first page, hoping it would make more sense. It didn't.

The lift stopped, and he looked to Ms. Ato, who remained still. Since they obviously weren't getting off here, he turned back to the NERVE papers.

The doors slip open and Ms. Ato faced a writing green mass of tentacles. She faced it with a stoic frown. "Hello, Rheetsko."

"You're late, Ms. Ato," it answered in a deep guttural, almost warbling voice. "An Angel is destroying the city above, and you…dilly-dally with the Third Children, err, Child.

Upon hearing the Martian speak, Shaun looked up from his papers and involuntarily screamed – the second time that day. "W-What is…" he stammered.

"This is Rheetsko," Ms. Ato said casually. "A Martian employed here at NERVE."

"Employed. Ha!" The Martina threw its – head? – back and uttered a screeching laugh. "More like enslaved." Two beady black eyes fixed on Shaun, and two on Ms. Ato. "Though I suppose it is better than living with the Deutsch – the Germans in your language – there I hear my people are no more than slaves."

_Well, you did try to invade Earth_, Shaun said silently, not daring to anger the alien. It was just as well, since the conversation seemed to end there. Rheestko eased its bulk into the lift and a tentacle reached out and pressed a button. The lift resumed its downward crawl.

From his position, Shaun could examine the alien in great detail. The entire body was a sickly green…mass. It seemed to move on locomotive tentacles; indeed the Martian seemed to be no more than a mass of tentacles, as per his initial observation. The mouth though, was very much humanoid: two lips – upper and lower – two rows of teeth, and a tongue. Four beady black eyes were set above a set of flaps – nose? – in a square pattern. One eye noticed Shaun studying it, but allowed him to continue.

Finally, the lift stopped again, and Ms. Ato and Rheetsko made for the door. Both stopped short and glared at one another. Rheestko yielded and waved two tentacles forward, a very human gesture. "After you," it growled. Even though it was an alien, Shaun could hear the resentment it its voice.

He found himself in a room of pure darkness when the lift door closed behind them. "What's going on?"

"I have to show something, Shaun," Ms. Ato said. "Brace yourself."

Rheetsko flipped a switch and a series of electric light flickered to life. A gigantic brass and bronze face stared at him from over the edge of a railway. What resembled the faceplate of an armored knight covered where the mouth should have been. Below him spread the rest of an armored body. Above him towered fins protruding from the shoulders.

"What is that?" he exclaimed, half in fright, half in curiosity.

"That," Ms. Ato said, "is the biological automaton, Evangelion Unit 01."

"And you will be its pilot," came a familiar voice. All three looked upward to see Lord Gendo standing on a platform above the Evangelion's head. Lord Gendo was, it seemed by nature, a rather intimidating person. It certainly wasn't his size, fot eh man was actually quite normal in that regard. It seemed that he carried his full presence with an air of authority and almost cotempt, looking down at the world as if standing above everyone. Yet, for the moment, he looked almost relieved, his aristocratic presence subdues somewhat. He wore a subdued smile beneath his glasses and neatly trimmed beard. "Good to see you son, it's been too long."

"Yes, father," Shaun said with a slight bow. "It has." It truly had. He had not seen his father for years now, since being sent away to boarding school, as all Gendo children did. He frowned. "Did you say that I'm to pilot this…thing?"

"That's correct."

"I thought you brought me here to, I don't know, protect me, or something!"

"No, Shaun. I brought you here so that you could protect us."

Shaun blinked. "What?"

"You're the only one who can pilot the Eva, Shaun. She was built specifically to fight the Angels, just as London-III was built specifically to intercept the Angels."

Shaun looked back to the Eva. Questions bounced around in his head, though he voiced none of them. What was an Angel? That monster outside? And he was supposed fight that? And this giant...thing! He was to pilot it? He'd never seen it before in his life! How was he to know how to…? "Isn't there another way, father?" He had no combat experience, never mind the fact that he was only fourteen years old.

Lord Gendo frowned. "If there was another way, Shaun, I would have done it. Throwing my son to the wolves isn't exactly appealing to me, but it must be done if we are to survive." He paused. "We have one other pilot, but she was injured a few weeks ago during a German attack on London-III. I could ask her to – "

"No. Don't. I'll…" he looked back up at his father. "Do you really think I can do it?"

"I know you can do it. It's in your blood. You can defeat Sachiel."

Shaun frowned and then the corners of his mouth turned up. Sachiel. So it had a name."Very well. I'll pilot the Eva."

"Thank you," Lord Gendo said with a small sigh of relief. "Excuse me; I have to make other preparations. Rheetsko, Ms. Ato, would you get him inside, please?" The lights illuminating the platform abruptly dimmed to black.

"Come on." Ms. Ato led Shaun around the side of the Eva's head and up a flight of stairs so that they were situated below the platform where Lord Gendo had been standing, but still above the Eva. A long cylindrical tube was waiting with its hatch open.

"This is the Entry Capsule," Rheetsko explained. "This is what you will control the Evangalion from. Once you are inside, it will be lifted and inserted into the spine of the Eva."

"There's no windows," Shaun observed. "How am I supposed to see what I'm doing?"

"You humans have, ah, borrowed some technology from my species, technology that allows the viewing of events from a distance. In your language, I believe the phrase is…moving pictures?" One tentacle came up to scratch its forehead in thought.

"Like the picture I sent you," Ms. Ato said, "but moving."

"Okay," Shaun nodded, not really understanding. He stepped over the side of the hatch and situated himself in the warm metal seat. His hands found the trigger controls of themselves and his feet rested naturally on the pedals. The hatch closed and locked, which triggered several electric lights to turn on, illuminating the cockpit. He felt the whole capsule move and a large metal arm lifted it into the air and inserted it into the Eva where the neck met the shoulders.

"Shaun, can you hear me?" It Ms. Ato's voice, but how…? "I'm using the radio to talk to you, Shaun. It's another of Tesla's inventions. Can you hear me?"

"Uh, yes, ma'am. I can hear you."

"Good. Flood the Entry Capsule!"

"What?" A thick liquid quickly filled the capsule rising to his mouth and over. He held his breath as long as he could.

"It's okay, Shaun. Once the LCL fills your lungs, you'll be able to breathe normally."

"How can I breathe in liquid? Oh." He'd just done it without realizing it. More lights filled the cockpit and the LCL became clear, and he quickly forgot about it. After a dazzling lightshow the spaces in front of him changed so that he could see the room outside the Eva.

So that's what they meant. I can see what the Eva's eyes see.

"Are you ready, Shaun?"

As I'll ever be. "Yes."

"Launch!"

The Eva jerked upward as electrically powered lifts carried the massive automaton out of the Geofront and to the city above. It was much faster than the lift that had carried him down, but it still took several minutes for him to reach the surface, during which he familiarized himself with the gauges and dials places below the viewing area. Most were pressure gauges, one read AT Barrier, and another EMERGENCY FUEL.

He emerged directly across from the Angel; it stopped and turned towards him, empty eye sockets fixed directly onto him. He nearly froze at the controls, but for his father.

"Shaun. Listen to me. The pedals and triggers control the movement of the arms and legs, respectively. You are hooked up to an electrical engine buried beneath the city; there is a plug in the back of the Eva. If that becomes severed or unhooked, you will operating on an emergency combustion engine, with enough diesel fuel for only about five minutes. See that gauge? If that hand reaches the left side, you will be without power.

"Try to walk forward."

"Right." Pedals control the feet. He depressed the right pedal, which lifted the right foot, eased the Eva forward, and pressed the pedal; he made a step. In his excitement, he pressed both pedals at ones, and the Eva tripped, crashing down on its face.

The Angel did not appear amused. It ambled forward and lifted Unit 01 by the head. Shaun felt a squeezing on his temples, as though the Angel were touching him as well as the Eva. But that's ridiculous.

"Shaun!" Ms. Ato and Lord Gendo shouted at him just as the Angel pounded on the Eva's face with a battering ram embedded in its palm. Boom. Boom. Boom. Shaun could feel the pounding on his own face, like something was digging into his left eye. He abandoned the controls and covered his face, trying in vain to shield it from the pain. He heard some chattering on the radio, his name shouted, but was unable to focus on it. Pain clouded his thoughts.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Crack! Boom. Crack! The faceplate of the Eva cracked, and Shaun felt as though his head was splitting. Then the ram pierced the Eva's eye and carried back hundreds of feet until it crashed into a building and slumped to the ground. Shaun screamed in pain, and nearly blacked out. He moved his hand away from his eye, expecting blood, but found he could see just fine.

"Shaun," someone shouted over the radio. "It's not really pain, or at least yours. You feel the Eva's pain."

"How is that possible?" he demanded, but was met with only radio static. Confused, he checked the gauges. The power cable must have snapped because the emergency fuel gauge was steadily sliding left. The Angel recalled its battering ram from the Eva's skull and blood mixed with motor oil spewed out the front and back, which only made the fuel gauge decrease faster.

Shaun pulled and squeezed and pressed desperately on the controls for the giant automaton, but it refused to respond. "No, no! Come on! Work. I don't want to die here." Finally he gave up. "I knew it. I can't do this. My first time out and I fail miserably. Father was wrong; I'm not an Eva pilot. I can't do this." Shaun buried his head in his arms. Despair came, but he didn't cry, though a part of him wished to. He was Shaun of House Gendo. He wouldn't show such weakness.

The lights inside the cockpit dimmed, sputtered, and cut off altogether. Unit 01 was completely out of fuel. He could feel the ground tremble with each advancing step of the Angel; he waited for his death to come and prayed it would be swift.

Then something happened. All the lights burst to life, much brighter than before; the radio began emitting static noise once more, which quickly focused to voices. "…Beserk…Impossible! Unit 01 is completely out of power, how can it…"

Evangelion Unit 01 roared. The faceplate split open, revealing a mouth – the ripped metal itself resembling jagged teeth. Without Shaun's input, the automaton climbed to its feet and faced the Angel, which seemed just as confused as Shaun was.

"Shaun," his father said on the radio. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes," he replied, wiping away his tears.

"Can you still control the Eva?"

"Um." Shaun tested the controls. Upon feeling his touch the Eva seemed to relax and accept his piloting. "Yes. It's much easier than before."

"Then use it! Kill the Angel!"

My father believes in me, he thought. So I believe in me, too. He thinks I can do; I think I can do this. The Eva wants me to succeed, that's why it got back up.

Unit 01 roared again as Shaun urged it forward; it charged headfirst into the Angel, but collided with an unseen wall. Unit 01 stopped completely in its tracks, and even began sliding backwards.

"An A.T. Barrier," Rheetsko gurgled over the radio. "Deploy your own!"

"What does that mean?" He never got an answer because the Eva assumed control once more, opened a slot in its right fin and producing a short blade.

"Progressive blade deployed," he heard over the radio.

The blade then extended, until it was a scaled up longsword, which the Eva gripped with both hands. An electric current shot all the way up the length of the blade, and it began to vibrate.

"Use it," Lord Gendo urged. "Cut through the A. T. Barrier with the blade!"

Instinct took over and Shaun swung the blade at the Angel. It collided with the invisible barrier again, this time producing a hexagonal shock wave. He sliced again and again, until finally, the barrier cracked. The Eva hopped back and lunged forward with the progressive blade. It pierced the A.T. Barrier and continued into the Angel, piercing just to the right of the red jewel. Momentum carried the two forward, but a small home tripped the Angel, sending it crashing backwards to the ground; the progressive blade kept it pinned down.

Shaun glanced at the layout of his Eva inside the cockpit. He noted he had one more weapon at his disposal. When Shaun saw what it was, he smirked. The left fin opened up and Unit 01 produced an oversized revolver. Shaun took aim at the Angel's head, narrowing his eyes, and fired. The air exploded with noise as loud *Cracks* rang out. Metal slugs tore through the Angel, blasting gory holes through the Angel's face.

He got off five shots before he was suddenly aware that Lord Gendo was shouting over the radio. "The core, Shaun! Shoot the bloody core!" Shaun stopped. "The red orb! Shoot it!"

Shaun and the Eva together dropped the barrel to line up with the core, adjusting his aim with an almost contemptuous attitude. He fired off the last shot, which echoed loudly in the almost absolute silence, and pierced the core. For a second, nothing happened, then the core liquefied, and the entire Angel melted into a blood-like liquid, flooding the city.

"Good job, Shaun," he heard his father say. "I'm proud of you."

Evangelion Unit 01 powered down completely.

* * *

Before we hear any complaints, we would like to clarify a few things.

1. This is an Alternate Universe setting.

2. It is a mix of steampunk, biopunk, dieselpunk, gaslamp fantasy (hence the title), and H.G. Wells and Jules Verne homages. Combined together, we have created awesomepunk.

3. Since it is set in London-III rather than Tokyo 3, almost all of the names have been altered but retained the beginning sound. For example, Shinji is now Shaun and Gendo is his surname. there's no real reason for THAT other than "Lord Gendo" sound cool.

4. These characters are likeable. Shaun isn't a whiner, and Lord Gendo isn't a jerk.

5. This Alternate Universe features a persistent Anglo-German war in the background (and sometimes foreground) of the Angel attacks.

6. More of the history of this world, and the true nature of Second Impact, as well as the Martians pre-invasion will be revealed as the story goes along.

* * *

Now that that is out of the way, I must give credit.

Credit for the initial concept of "Gaslight Evangelion" goes to TheHiddenAssassin. I kid you not, the exchange went like this:

TheHiddenAssassin: "Steampunk Evangelion."

Myself and TEAM DERRICK: "THAT'S F***ING AWESOME!"

And it spiraled out of control from there.

Most of the background for this alternate universe came from the hellish, Lovecraftian mind of TEAM DERRICK. Although TheHiddenAssassin and I contributed in no small part, alternate histories are just DERRICK's forte.

I did the majority of the writing, and they did most of the editing.

Credit for the title also goes to TEAM DERRICK.

* * *

Please tell us what you think, and don't be shy; we need all the help we can get.


	3. This World of Ours

This World of Ours...

* * *

Shaun awakened to the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling. Unpleasant smells filled his nostril: the stench of disease and death and decaying flesh broke through the smothering antiseptic sprayed every few hours. He wrinkled his nose and tried to think of something else, but could only return his mind to the Entry Capsule of the Evangelion, and so laid, body and mind, in the hospital ward of NERVE headquarters.

He was dressed only in a simple hospital gown, so somewhere along the way someone must have undressed him. For some reason that thought made him uncomfortable and embarrassed. The bed was far beneath the quality he was accustomed to, being the son of a lord, but he was so exhausted from the fight with Sachiel that he was glad to have a bed at all to lie in. Daylight streamed in through the curtains that covered the only window. He suspected it was artificial sunlight generated in the Geofront and not the real light from the sun. That made it difficult to know what time it was since no chronometer was present in his room.

Shaun laid there for several hours, nibbled on the tray of food left on the table beside his bed, and eventually got dressed. No one came to check on him during the whole time, so guessed there were orders to let him be. _Just like father_, he thought mildly and began pacing the sterile-white room.

When he could stand it no longer, he left. He passed a handful of nurses and orderlies in the hallway, but was otherwise alone. After a few minutes of wandering the corridors, he became lost. Every new hall looked exactly the same as the one before. The large identification painted on the wall might have been in German for all he could understand it.

_Section H4._

Shaun shoved his hands into his pockets irritably and felt something. He produced a piece of folded paper from his pocket - one he was sure hadn't been there the previous night. Upon opening it, he found it to be a map of NERVE. Quickly he located his location and began to trace a path outward from there. His eyes stopped like a fly in amber when he was the designation CAGE 7.

_That's where Eva is._

* * *

The Eva was just as Shaun remembered it from his last visit here. The walkway was roughly level with the Eva's head; the span of the walkway was about equal to that of the Eva's shoulder width. Leaning over the rail, Shaun could see the torso, arms, and legs of the Eva extend down to the base of the cage. Although he didn't experience vertigo from heights, the sheer size of the automaton made his head spin. Humans made this, a machine that dwarfed cities and could defeat advanced alien societies single-handedly.

Shaun sat against the far rail, pulled his legs to his chest, and studied Evangelion Unit-01. Lifeless eyes and the lack of a visible mouth created the illusion of a completely mechanical automaton, but Shaun knew that was false. He had been _inside_ Eva. He knew it was alive beneath that bronze and brass armor.

"But that's impossible," he whispered to himself. "Machines can't be alive. It was just my imagination." Alive or not, it felt alive when he fought the Angel; it unsettled Shaun to know (or think) that the machine he piloted might have a mind of its own.

Lord Gendo stepped cautiously onto the walkway where his son sat, feeling the structure shake slightly under his feet. He adjusted his monocle and continued on. "There you are, Shaun," he said. "No one was sure where you'd gone off to." As he approached – again cautiously – he noticed his son studying the Eva. Misreading the situation, he said, "Marvelous isn't it?"

Shaun shrugged his shoulder just so.

"You know, the Eva's revolver is actually a modified artillery cannon; the design is basically the same, and very little modification was necessary to let it become a giant handgun. When we asked the engineers to do it, thought, the thought we were crazy." He laughed nervously. "I suppose it's a good thing they listened to us, eh?"

Shaun responded by burying his head farther into his knees.

"You did a good thing, Shaun," Lord Gendo tried desperately. "You defeated the Angel and saved the city. You should be proud; I am."

Shaun said something but it was muffled.

"What?"

"I said I don't think I can do it again." Shaun lifted his head up, still staring at the Eva. "Piloting it, I mean. I can't do it again."

"What? Why not?"

"Because!" He let that word hang between them long enough to make his father shift nervously. "I don't…think I can control it. When I was fighting with it…I don't like to fight, father, but when I was in the Eva, that didn't matter. I did want to fight. I wanted to kill the Angel, even thought I knew I didn't like fighting."

Lord Gendo feared mental contamination of his son by the Eva, but quickly dismissed it because if that were so, Shaun would not be expressing such reluctance to pilot the Eva now. If it were true, he would be chomping at the bit to be back in the pilot seat, to fight something – anything. Thankful for that, he still had to convince his son to return to the Entry Capsule the next time there was an Angel attack – and there would be more.

"Look, Shaun," Lord Gendo began, but his son cut him off.

"Remember when you asked me if I was in control?"

_When the Eva went berserk_, Lord Gendo remembered. "Yes. You answered that you were."

"Well, I lied. Or I think I did. I'm not sure now, but at the time I thought I was in control because I could get it to move the way I wanted it to, even though it was out of fuel. Now, though, I'm not sure who was in control. It responded more to my thoughts than my controls, and even then I can't be sure that they were even my thoughts; like I said, I don't normally like fighting."

Lord Gendo sighed and dropped wont to his son's level. "I think it was the heat of the moment, Shaun. If you hadn't fought, Sachiel would have killed you. Even those who dislike fighting will defend themselves in threatened."

"Maybe." Shaun seemed to relax at the admission.

Lord Gendo placed a hand on Shaun's shoulder. "Son, I hate to ask this of you, but I need you to keep piloting Unit-01. There are going to be more Angels, and also the Germans to defend against."

"Dad – "

"You might not like it, but London-III needs you. All of England needs you. And besides, you won't be alone, not for long at least. Once the other pilot has recovered, she'll be out there fighting alongside you."

"Okay," Shaun said after what seemed like an eternity of silence. "I'll do it, I'll defend the city in the Eva."

"Thank you, Shaun," Lord Gendo sighed. "I'm sorry but it has to be you; you're the only one who can pilot Unit-01." He glanced up at Unit-01, but quickly turned away; the memories were too painful. "Would you like to meet her?"

"Who?" Shuan looked up at his father in a way that reminded Lord Gendo of when he was just a child, before the Martians came.

_But he still is just a child_, he reminded himself.

"Meet who, father?"

"The other pilot."

* * *

Rachel Adams slumbered beneath a thin hospital sheet in a room much like the one Shaun had awoken in. Her forehead was wrapped in bandages and one eye was covered by gauze. Nothing was bloody, but Shaun suspected that was because her wrappings had been changed recently. Her breathing was labored, as thought each time she inhaled, she caused herself pain.

"What happened to her?" Shaun asked in a whisper.

"She was injured in the latest German attack on London-III, only a short two weeks ago." Lord Gendo explained. "Rachel was our only pilot at the time, so we sent her out. She performed beautifully, just like she'd been trained to do, but the Germans… She repelled the attack, but she and Unit-00 were severely damaged in the process."

Rachel turned in her sleep, revealing a bandaged arm in a sling beneath the sheets. Her breathing quickened and became more painful; to Shaun it appeared as though she were having a nightmare. His father calmly stroked her faded blond hair until she quieted and returned to a peaceful sleep.

"What did this?" Shaun asked finally. "What kind of weapon has the power to damage an Eva this much? Even fighting the Angel, I didn't receive this much damage."

_Perhaps_, Lord Gendo thought, _but Rachel doesn't have the luxury of activating a berserker mode if all of her Eva's fuel is consumed_.

"Shaun, you know how Unit-00 was used by the British in the war?"

"Yes."

"Well, it wasn't the only one there was, it was simply the only unit owned by the crown."

"Father, what are you – what do you mean?"

Lord Gendo inhaled deeply before continuing. "When the Martians arrived, Britain and Germany were already locked in a war of dominance over Europe, had been for years. When the aliens came, we had to reluctantly unite to face this new threat – or there wouldn't be a Europe to conquer afterward.

"So we, Germany, America, and Russia fought the Martians' tripods with everything we had. At first we managed to stall their advance; entire nations became battlefields. It was…horrible. And then they initiated Second Impact by launching a meteorite at the South Pole."

"Why the South Pole," Shaun asked. "Wouldn't it have made more sense to hit one of us, one of their enemies?"

"Perhaps, but they weren't simply invading for the hell of it, son; they wanted a world to live on after it was over. Hitting Antarctica was a demonstration of their power intended to frighten us into submission. But they didn't count on good old human determination and ingenuity, Shaun.

"Myself and handful of other stole some of the Martians' technology, a good bit of which is in use here in NERVE. Most importantly was the manipulation of life-threads to create artificial life. You see, at that point, we had the capacity to built giant fighting robots, much like the Evangelions, except that's what we got: giant automatons. You know how flimsy they are, Shaun: a good whack and it breaks apart.

"That's where the life-threads came in. A large automaton with biological components would be both more durable and more flexible in combat."

"So why hadn't the Martians used that technology for themselves?"

"You know, that's a very good question. Rheetsko and the others working here refuse to answer the question. My guess? They simply hadn't thought of it, and are embarrassed to admit it.

"In any case, Shaun, we created Evangelion Unit-00 to combat the tripods. But so did the Germans. They were part of the team that stole the technology, and so possessed the capacity to make Evas. They made two in the space of our one, but each of theirs was of significantly lesser quality to ours; they rushed it. Both were destroyed in combat, but even so, they pushed the tide of the war in to humanity's favor. Without them, though the Crown hates to admit it, we would not have succeeded.

"Now, for you original question, Shaun: Rachel was injured in combat with the latest German Evangelion Model, the Mark.06. Rachel defeated the German force, but the Mark.06's pilot defeated Rachel. Rather than finish her off, he retreated."

_More Evangelions_, Shaun thought miserably. "Am I going to have to fight this Eva pilot?"

"There is a distinct possibility, son," Gendo said softly.

Instead of dwelling on it, Shaun moved on. "What was the original war between Britain and Germany about?"

Lord Gendo shrugged. "Honestly? I have no idea. I don't think anyone truly remembers what we're fighting for anymore. More or a less over land and influence, from what I gather. This war has been going on so long; it has almost gone beyond the point of reason. This is just simply Act 2, with the invasion having been the intermission."

"Can't they find someone else to attack?" Shaun asked bitterly.

"Not likely. Most of Europe is theirs anyway, with France only just holding onto their independence, thanks to Napoleon's campaign at the beginning of this century. America exists a whole ocean away and is staunchly neutral, and Russia is, well, Russia."

Shaun gave him a curious look. "What do you mean?"

"Ever looked at a map, Shaun? Russia is huge. Imagine trying to invade a country of that size."

"That's true. All they'd have to do is move into Siberia and no one would ever reach them."

"And," Lord Gendo went on, "They'd eventually get stuck in a Russian Winter." He shivered. "Russian winters are brutal. Any army caught in one would be ruined and forced to retreat. Russia is like one giant shield."

"You'd have to be stupid to try it," Shaun said. "Stupid or arrogant." They lapsed into silence and he found himself watching Rachel sleep. Somehow she reminded him of his mother, the French scientist, Yvette.

"Father," he said slowly. "When you said that the Evas were partly biological, does that mean that - ?"

"No, Shaun. The Evas are not alive." He answered quickly and shot his son a hard stare that marked the end of the discussion.

"Let's go, Shaun."

"Where to?"

"School. I have to get you enrolled before you can attend."

Shaun made a face of disgust. "You mean I still have to go? I thought being an Eva pilot would get me out of having to go."

"No such luck, son. Even heroes need their schooling. You'll have a bit of leeway with projects and homework, since after school you'll be doing drills in the Eva down here, but you still need to attend." Lord Gendo stopped suddenly in his stride, realizing something. "You won't know anyone in school, will you?"

"No," Shaun said, shaking his head.

"Ah, I'm sorry, Shaun." He rubbed his eyes, letting his monocle drop and hang from its chain. "Promise me you'll make some friends."

"Okay. Sure, dad."

Lord Gendo watched his son walk ahead of him, lamenting at the lies he had had to tell him. Having practiced them so many times in the mirror, he had a hard time himself remembering which parts were true, and which were lies intended to maintain secrecy.

_Please forgive me, Shaun.

* * *

_

"Class, we have a new student today," class 2-A's teacher, Mr. Jenkins said. He was an elderly looking man, wrinkled and stooped with glasses three inches thick. He still possessed a full head of hair, which would have been impressive, if it were not completely gray. "Shaun Gendo. Say hello."

"Hello," the class responded half-heartedly. Shaun smiled; nobody returned the gesture. With a sigh he took one of the empty seats in the centre of the room, not far back enough where he could mull around and escape notice, but not close enough where he would be forced to feign absolute attentiveness. He was right in the middle of everyone. And that's exactly how he felt as soon as his rump touched the seat. Everyone looked his way for a long moment before Mr. Jenkins began lecturing again.

_Someone in NERVE must have leaked, he thought. They have to know I was the pilot of the automaton or else they wouldn't even notice me. I wonder if they're mad I destroyed part of the city?  
_  
He had every intention of listening to Mr. Jenkin's lecture about the war, but the old bag was so _dull_ that he ended up leaning his head on one hand and staring out the window. It was such a nice day and it seemed a shame to waste it indoors. Since Second Impact, most days were nice and warm. The melting of the southern polar ice cap had altered the climate of the world – not too drastically beyond rising sea levels, but it did produce a nice warm climate nearly year-round for Great Britain.

That was something, at least, that the Martians could be thanked for. Winters now were short and mild. Shaun possessed only one or two memories of a real Earth winter, and they were awful. He enjoyed the warm climate. Many others though, scientists, ecologists, and religious organizations proclaimed it a horrendous blow to the world. The scientific viewpoint of it was that they had altered the Earth's natural balance and thrown the world into chaos – as though it weren't already. The religious stance was that Second Impact (as well as the Martians themselves) upset God's plan, and that by doing so, they had angered Him.

_Maybe that's why He sent His Angels on us_? Shaun joked morbidly. _Come to think of it, what ARE the Angels? Why would NERVE name them after beings that are supposedly messengers of God?_ Shaun didn't buy into the whole religion thing, which made him something of an oddity in the British Empire. Him and his father.

_Hm?_ During his musings, it seemed someone had slipped a not onto his desk. He glanced around for any sign of who it might be, but the class seemed to be experts at maintain a poker face. After checking to make sure he wouldn't be noticed by Mr. Jenkins – the old man was talking while facing the blackboard (_Does he even know where he is?)_ – Shaun unfolded the note.

_Are you the pilot of the automaton? Y/N?_

Shaun sighed. They very fact that they even asked him probably meant that they already knew the answer. For such a secretive organization, NERVE's security appeared to have been breached rather easily by some kids. He briefly considered answering no, but didn't think it would do much good. It would only make them believe it more if he denied it, than if he owned up to it. Taking his pen, he circled Y, and wrote "Yes" underneath. No one seemed ready to pick up the message, so he folded it and placed it back on his desk. Soon his attention was once again captured by the outdoors.

"What?" Suddenly the whole class was standing up in their seats and staring at him with incredulous looks on their faces. In the space of a few minutes, one note had circumnavigated the classroom, a feat even Magellan would have envied.

At the front of the class, Mr. Jenkins continued to lecture, now staring out the window.

* * *

"Hey, new kid!"

Shaun had been bum-rushed by the students after class, each shouting a dozen questions, all of them about the automaton. A couple he could answer - What was it called? How big was it? What weapons did it carry? – but most of the others were either classified or he simply didn't know. It had taken fifteen minutes just to get from his desk to the front door.

"Hey!"

"I told you," Shaun said without stopping. "I can't answer any more questions about the Evangelion." He thought he might leave him alone, but that fantasy was cut short by a hand spinning him violently around by the shoulder. It was a dark-haired boy who sounded like he was from America – Brooklyn, by his accent.

"That ain't why I'm here, kid. You say you're the pilot of that…thing what beat the Angel?"

"Uh, yes?" Hadn't he covered this a dozen timed before?

"Thought so." He gathered a fistful of Shaun's uniform and pulled him close. "You know I oughta knock you out right now."

"Why? What did I do?"

"Heh, what'd you do?" The boy cocked a grin and pulled back a fist, aimed directly at Thomas' face. He couldn't help but wince.

"Thomas! What are you doing?" Another boy ran up, this one sporting glasses and blond hair.

"Stay outta this Kenneth. This is between me and Shaun here."

"But I didn't do anything!"

"The hell you didn't! Because of you, my little sister is in the hospital! That's right," he added seeing the shocked look on Shaun's face. "While you were out screwing around, you stepped a house with my sister in it."

"Is…is she okay?"

"Don't pretend you care now, kid. It's too late for – "

"I was only trying to help," Shaun exclaimed. A fist slammed into the side of his face and he went down. Apparently satisfied, Thomas shoved his hands into his pockets and started away with Kenneth. "I did my best."

Thomas spun around. "What did you say?"

"I said I did my best." Shaun met Thomas's stare. "I'm sorry she got hurt, but she's alive, isn't she? Without me to fight the Angel, she would have died along with the rest of this city."

"Don't you say that!" Thomas charged, but Shaun was already on his feet and dodged the strike. Thomas lashed out blindly, a wild swing that Shaun, with his limited fighting skills, easily avoided. He landed a solid, but weak, strike on Thomas. The other boy stumbled back more out of shock, than pain.

Shaun was visibly shaking, but determined to stand his ground. "I don't like fighting, but I'm not going to let anyone push me around."

"Right then," Thomas remarked. He threw himself at Shaun, this time with more control. They sparred for a minute or two, Shaun managing to land a blow or two, but they didn't seem to make any difference. By contrast, he moved slower with every hit from Thomas. Finally, Thomas got him in the gut, and then again on the side of the head, sending him to the ground. Shaun tasted blood in his mouth.

"Your best wasn't enough to save my sister," Thomas growled before kicking Shaun in the stomach. As he stalked away, victorious, Kenneth leaned over.

"Sorry about him. He's just very protective of his sister." He didn't even offer to help Shaun up, he just dashed after Thomas.

Long after his wind had returned, and the bleeding stopped, Shaun lay in a heap. _Even when trying to defend this city, I hurt people. Maybe my father was wrong. Maybe I can't do this._

"Shaun." Her voice made him jump. Rachel – still bandaged – stood over him. Her one good eye studied him with a cruel indifference. "We're needed back at NERVE."

"I don't know if I can," he whispered.

"I will help you then." She reached down to pull him up.

"No that's not – " It was too late, Rachal had pulled Shaun to his feet.

"Can you walk?"

With a sigh, he said, "Yes."

"Good. We are needed." She took off running.

_They need me. They need me._ He spit the blood out of his mouth and went after her, holding onto the thought that someone needed him.

_

* * *

_**A/N: **Not nearly as long as the last one, I know, but that's how it goes. Gave you a bit of history concerning the world.

And to Tasermon's Partner: Yes. We thought making Mitsuko into a hideous monster was a good idea, too.

**EDIT:** We realized that this chapter was too short, and that adding the final two scenes to the next would 1. create an unbalanced set of chapters 2. not fit with the next chapter anyway. So, there toy go.


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